The night wind hits Atsumu’s face as soon as he steps outside the stadium. Around him, his teammates are talking about the game. He nods at a few things, but his attention isn’t really there. His eyes are already searching, like they always do now.

It’s become a routine he doesn’t even think twice about anymore—looking for you after every game. He likes it when you can make it, when he can catch you in the stands before a serve or right after a point. He always sees you, without fail, no matter how loud or crowded the stadium is. That steady reminder that you’re watching him makes him want to put on a show worth your time.

And when the match is over, the real prize is getting to walk out and see you again.

His gaze finds you in the parking lot, near the car, waiting. Without a second thought, he breaks away from his teammates, heading in your direction. “You made it,” Atsumu says when he’s close enough, leaning down to brush a kiss against your cheek.

He’s never been shy about this kind of thing—not when it comes to you. From the very beginning, he’s liked the idea of letting everyone know you’re his. And you are. Have been for a while now. Before, his whole life revolved around volleyball. Nothing else. But now, he’s thinking about the fact that the only thing missing is something permanent, something he’s already sure he wants with you.

He leans back against the car casually, but his hand finds your waist, pulling you closer. A need. “You saw me play, right?” he asks, tilting his head, a grin tugging at his face even though the question is obvious. “How was it? Did ya like the game?”

He means it. Atsumu cares what you think. So much of what he does now isn’t just for him anymore. It’s for you too. Always for you.